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SOCME 



%EMINIS CE^CES 

of 



OLT) CONCORD 







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THE. LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JAN 28 1903 

A CL;p>(ight Entry 
AaSS */ XXc. No. 
COPY B. 






^^ hese childhood recollections were written for 
^^ the ''University Extention Club" of New- 
port, Vermont; and given at the home of Judge 
and Mrs. F. E. Alfred, Jan. 9th., 1897. 

They were repeated at a reception given by 
Rev. and Mrs. C. A. Livingston at the Unitarian 
Church of Gouverneur, N. Y., Dec. 9th., 1902. 

P. R. Edes. 

January 26th., 1903. 





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or the last ten years 1 have been striv- 
ing to live in the present; to fill the 
/|'l^^)^ now quite full, which alone is ours; so 
vNfe&^^l it gave me quite a little start when 
your President asked me to look back so far to my 
early life in Old Concord, where as a girl 1 romped 
and played, and, when a young woman enjoyed 
the acquaintence and the familiar every-day sight 
of the many noted people there, and tell you about 
them, not as a matter of history, but as things look- 
ed to me, living my uneventful life; so I called a 
halt and put myself back among the dear friends 
and early days. 

As when learning to slide one runs back to get 
a good start, 1 must take you back a little to get an 
idea of how the Concord life began. My father, 
a merchant in Charlestown, Massachusetts, in poor 



health, was advised to try farming. In March of 
the year 1830 he with my mother and five children 
settled on a farm in Littleton, Massachusetts, on the 
sunny side of the grand old Nashoba mountain; 
there in June, in the early part of the remarkable 
decade beginning with the year, 1830 1 opened my 
eyes upon this good world. 

Of this life in Littleton 1 have only a faint rec- 
ollection of an old red house and of the great moun- 
tain, for, when 1 was five years of age father bought 
in Concord a farm of Revolatijnary note, on the 
Lexington road, a mile and a half from the village. 

The house was built many years before the 
Revolution, on a rise quite a little back from the 
street; with its large, square rooms on either side 
of the front door, with heavy, broad beams through 
the center of the rooms. 

The roof was the slanting one on the back of 
the house descending to within a few feet of the 
ground and, like all such roofs, had a ladder fasten- 
ed to the ridge-pole by means of hooks and reach- 
ing; to the ground, which ladder had a very strange 



fascination for me, as I was always aiming to get 
above the earth by climbing trees and hills; and I 
recall how several times 1 gave my mother quite a 
start, as from the back door she called me, by slid- 
ing down the roof and suddenly landing at her feet, 
book in hand. The house in Littleton, when father 
bought it was fully equipped for country work. 
There was the churn, cheese-press, candle-mould 
and bars, spinning wheels and reels, coffee-mill, and 
all the cooking utensils for brick oven and fire-place. 
My mother learned the way to use them all 
from a country neighbor, so in the old-timey Con- 
cord house they always looked as though they grew 
there. There was an old fashioned, four foot fire- 
place and, for a couple of weeks mother (to keep 
alive the old customs in the memory of the children) 
had the cooking stove removed; and we reveled in 
potatoes baked in ashes, short-cakes cooked in a 
bake-pan before the fire, turkeys and chickens roast- 
ed on a spit; and evening parties to pare apples for 
sauce, and to dry, were enjoyed by the young 
people of the village as a rare treat; as well as 



the dance in the great kitchen to the lively, jerky 
strains of old John Wesson's fiddle (the only instru- 
ment that furnished music for balls and parties at 
that time ) keeping time with one eye closed as he 
sang out, - **up and down the middle," **all hands 
round, "togather with the eccentric gyrations of fid- 
d'e and bow. All this makes a picture, mingled with 
the real mirth on every face, that I can never forget. 
The supper and, last but not least, the ride home 
as the day was breaking. And 1 imagine we work- 
ed no harder than we do now in playiug whist; but 
there was more to show for our work in the morn- 
ing, as I can remember a whole barrel of cider 
apple-sauce, the result of one evening's work. 

Opposite the house accross the street was an 
immense elm tree; the trunk was hollow being six- 
teen feet in circumference and large enough to hold 
several men. I suppose it is a fact that from that 
tree several of the British were shot on the retreat 
from the Concord fight. 

1 recall as I speak of the old elm a time that 
1 disgraced it and it was and is still very dear to me 



as it constituted the sacred precinct of the play- 
house of my childhood. 

During the Whig Campaign of 1840, when the 
great "Ball" which was rolled from town to town 
was started from Boston to Concord with bands of 
music, a Log Cabin on wheels drawn by oxen, a 
barrel of hard cider on tap also on wheels, banners 
of:- "HARRISON AND TYLER," TIPPICANOE AND 
TYLER TOO," with a profusion of flags and vehicles 
of all sorts made a procession a mile long as it pass- 
ed our tree which my brothers had placarded as a 
tree from which a yankee "minute-man" had shot 
British soldiers. All kept "open house" on the way 
so all was bustle and confusion. 1 was in the way 
teasing for a flag. I kept my own counsel and 
thought that tree should have a flag. My brother 
said,- "What do girls want of flags?" but my good 
mother, knowing my persistency, got out a pattern 
and colors in pieces and set me to work making one 
saying,- "there, dear, you'll make a prettier one 
than you can buy." so for days 1 was out of the 
way. The flag was made, stripes and stars and 



blue ground. 1 got a rough stick and nailed it on, 
union down. A little late in finishing,, father and 
brothers had gone to receive the guests. I got a 
box to stand on and fastened my home made flag 
just over the placard congratulating myself that 
every body would see it. Presently the procession 
came into sight and they did see it, and — uproar- 
ous cheers and hisses and shouts of laughter filled 
my child heart with joy, for I was sure my flag 
was the cause of it all, as it was greatly to the mor- 
tification of my father and brothers, and when I 
saw it torn from the stick and thrown down and 
stamped upon with,- "you little goose, didn't you 
know better than to 'put the Union down?' " and 
1, not knowing then what I had done, said,- "well 
I put it up as high as 1 could reach! " and I thought 
"Love's labor" was "lost." 

The house had an ell in which was the back 
door and over this entry was my room window. 

I had heard the thrilling story of Revolutionary 
time of Paul Revere 's ride as he actually clattered 
over the paving stones around that door and, under 



that very window shouted, -" Wake up; the British 
are upon us!" then he galloped on and at the next 
house gave the same cry. I had heard the story 
from an old lady who lived in the house at that 
time — perhaps slept in my very room — and 1 
used to live over that night and would imagine that 
if 1 should get up and look out of that window 1 
should see that horse and rider. But 1 never did. 

"A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 

A shape in the mooniijjht. a bulli in the dark. 

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passini^r, a 

spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: 
That was ail ! And yet, through the gloom and 

the light, 
Tlie fate of a nation was riding that night; 
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his 

flight. 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat." 

About a quarter of a mile from father's lived 
Ephraim W. Bull, a great thinker, and the origina- 
tor of the " Concord grape. " 1 feel almost a kin 
to it as he was a friend of my father and year after 
year he would bring samples from a dozen or more 



vines, all labelled as to the proportion of fertilization 
and mixture of cuttings ect. and many a trial grape 
was tucked into my mouth as 1 stood by my father's 
knee, with eyes and mouth undoubtedly wide open 
listening to the talk. 

The success came but not to Mr. Bull. He 
had been obliged to borrow money. John Moore 
had made the loan and before Mr. Bull had satisfied 
himself as to its perfection Mr. Moore had started 
large vineyards of a grape he called,- "Moore's 
Early" from some of the experiments. But I think 
today the *' Concord Grape " leads all the natives. 
The Concord was developed from the wild grape, 
found growing on the banks of the Concord river, 
and Isabella cuttings. 

On the road to town, over which after ten 
years of age I used to go to school, about half a 
mile from my home stands the Alcott house, after- 
ward bought by Hawthorne and called, " Way- 
side," and occupied later by the School of Philoso- 
phy. I was often joined in my walks by Louisa 
and Anna Alcott. 1 recall distinctly a birthday 



party ot Louisa, to wliicli I was invited when about 
ten years (IJ. The Ale )tts were a vtry trut];al peo- 
ple, who in no wi:>e pampered the body. There 
were eijiht of us girls, and we played out of doors 
until half past live; tiien Louisa was told to take 
lier little friends in to supper. We were conducted 
into the family sitting room and seated in a semi- 
circle. 1 was wondering where the tea table was 
and how it could be brouglit in when Mrs. Alcott, 
herself, came in, tall, quietly moving and lovely; 
and spread a colored napkin in each one of our laps, 
saying something kindly to us at tlu- time. Then 
she brought in a plate of sliced bread with very lit- 
tle if any butter on it; we each had a piece, thin 
and square and very dainty; and next a plate of 
sliced apple was pas'^ed to us. We had one slice, 
and when we had eaten it all we folded our nap- 
kins and Mrs. Alcott bade us good-bye, saying, - 
"You can play a half hour more, and I hope you 
have had a nice time; then Louisa must come in to 
her lessons. I, a harty girl, was glad to go home; 
for, to tell the truth, 1 was hungry. 



My mother was very particular about " our 
manners;" we were never allowed to mention at 
home what we had to eat when we were away. 
When 1 reached home supper was through and I 
ventured to ask what they had had tor supper, and 
if I could have some. Mother said quietly,-* 'Were 
you not invited to stay to tta?" 1 said,- " Yes, 
mother, but we did not have (much, 1 was going 
to say, ) when the grieved tone of my mother stop- 
ped me with:- **Priscilla, not a word more!" 
*'But, mother," 1 said, " 1 'm liungry. " '^Priscie, 
go right up stairs to bed; 1 will have to keep you 
at home if you can not learn to be more polite." 

A little further on the same road, and nearer 
town, was the home of Ralph Waldo Emerson 
with a grove of pines on one side, and a driveway 
on the other which led down to a lovely brook, over 
which Mr. Alcott had built for him a quaint, rustic 
summer house. Much of his writing was done here 
alone by the gurgling brook. 

As I went back and forth to school, many times 
1 saw him walking among the pines with bowed 



head looking to the ground, I then thought; now I 
know he was looking within for the " Kingdom of 
Heaven " Christ said is within. 

Among my earliest recollections of Emerson's 
writing was a poem written by him in England just 
as he was about returning to Concord from a lecture 
tour. It was in a letter to a friend and came oi t in 
our local paper. 

"Good-bye, proud world, I 'm tjoini^: home. 



O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 
1 tread on the pride of Greece and F^ome; 
And when I am stretched beneath the pines. 
Where the eveninsj star so holy shines, 
I laug;h at the lore and the pride of man, 
The sophist's school and the learned clan; 
For what are they all in their hipjh conceit, 
When man in the bush with God may meet." 

So, when 1 saw him reverently pacing back and 
forth, 1 had a feeling of awe — as if indeed he was 
then talking with God among the pines. 

The Unitarian church is the only one I rem- 
ember in town before 1840. All the iniluential peo- 
ple were in it. Dear old Dr. Ezra Ripley was the 



pastor and lived in the "Old Manse " which was 
built by Emerson's grandfather. Dr. Ripley was 
a large man in every sense, with a broad face that 
was always beaming love. Everybody loved him 
and every dog wagged his tail, for, he greeted each 
one by its name, in those days every little girl 
made a courtesy when she met an older person, 
and the boys pulled off their hats. Dr. Ripley had 
a way with his soft fat hand of chucking under the 
chin the children, to make them look up into his 
face. One of my brothers did not enjoy this caress 
but dared not show his dislike. One evening, 
however, he gave vent to his feelings in the follow- 
ing way,- the frogs were very noisy, and he asked 
if we knew what they were saying. We did not, 
whereupon he replied,- ''That's easy enough to 
tell. Can't you hear? 'Old Dr. Ripley's coming, 
chug, chug, chug.' " I really believed it then and 
thought they were welcoming him; and to this day 
when I hear the frogs, I think of dear old Dr. Ripley. 
1 remember well the church with its square 
pews, the circular winding stairs up to the high 



pulpit with its wonderful, cover-like sounding board 
and the white-haired, saintly looking man as he 
raised his hands in benediction. As a small girl I 
was always looking for this benediction; for the 
people from out of the village stayed for the second 
service and at noon we had our lunch in thobe room- 
like pews. Many a peek did I try to get during 
the long sermon, into that lunch basket; and many 
a neighborhood gatheing do I remember, where all 
the week's happenings were well talked over. 
As we grew older the young men and maidens 
would leave the older ones to their family cares and 
would gather in some other pew. We were wise 
enough not to talk above a whisper, however; and 
to laugh aloud was of course not to be thought of. 
The old church with its square pews seems to 
make a frame in my memory for the portraits of the 
many notable men and women who used to worship 
there; and by no means least among them is that 
of the **trojan of the U. S. Senate," Hon. Geo. F. 
Hoar. 1 never see mention of him now that I do 
not think of him as a tall, handsome young man up 



from Harvard College to spend the Sunday at home 
as in his graceful, loving, courteous way, with his 
Mother leaning on his arm, he opened wide the 
pew door with a bow of deep respect waiting for 
her to pass. The Emerson, Thoreau, Prescot, 
Hoar, Keyes, Rice, and Brown, pews all frame 
pictured, old-time families and, when the dear old 
church was remodelled it was a personal loss to me 
— but when, two years ago, it was burned to the 
ground it seemed that I had lost them all. 

Dr. Ripley was getting old and many times 
Mr. Emerson was called upon to fill the pulpit. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson had been chosen pastor of 
the Second Unitarian Church of Boston in 1830. 
Four years he filled that pulpit; but he had the 
most profound conviction that the Lord's Supper 
was not established by Jesus for perpetual obser- 
vance by his followers, and that the formal conse- 
cration of the sacramental bread and wine as his 
body was sacrilegious; and he could not do it, and 
resigned. For a year his salary was continued in 
the hope he would reconsider; but he never did. 



In 1835 lie married and went to Concord to live, 
where although he would preach for Dr. Ripley, he 
would not administer the sacraments; but his influ- 
ence was at work; his quiet bearing, his serious, 
kindly eyes looking love on all alike, the Christ- 
Spirit in his earnest tones, threw a spell over his 
hearers, which 1 well remember. But by this time 
there were a goodly number of Emersonists — come 
outers and transcendentalists, they were termed. 
They attended the services as of old, but would 
quietly withdraw before the communion service and 
meet at Mr. Emerson's home or Dr. Ripley's or 
Judge Hoar's or with Mrs. Brooks for the spiritual 
communion of "Silent introspection." 

Of course they were denounced by those who 
could, or would not see as they did; but to me they 
were the sweetest, dearest, saintliest of people and 
1 greived that they could deserve such horrid names. 
Had, it been my lot to have come upon the scene 
of life's action even ten years earlier, how 1 would 
have aloried in bearing; those names! Their written 
word and their teachincis remain with me however. 



And now I rejoice in knowing what there is in those 
names which have become so dear to me. 

hi my Sunday School life I was favored indeed. 
Judge Samuel Hoar, father of Rockwell and Geo.F 
and who was arrested in passing through Baltimore 
with his invalid daughter on suspect of having help- 
ed slaves — when a man of about sixty years with 
a beautiful face, he was the first teacher of a class 
of eight girls, several of whom became noted later. 
Then Judge Brooks taught us until his death, two 
years later, and John Keyes, a noted lawyer, later 
a judge, took the class and was still its teacher when 
I married and left the town. All of these men led 
earnest, christian lives. To Mrs. Brooks, who, at 
this time with many others left the church alto- 
gather I am indebted much. Concord was, at this 
time, the scene of another fight than that of '75 — 
a fight for principle. The weapons on one side, 
love: on the other, ignorance and unjust crimination. 
Both sides equally sure: both equally sincere. 

Temperance was the first reform movement in 
which I joined in those early days. One of Con- 



cord's earnest men became a drunkard, and lov- 
ing hands on every side were stretched forth to 
save him and kindly care was extended to his fam- 
ily. At this time to save others and educate the 
children, the ''Cold Water Army" was formed. 
Almost every child in town, rich as well as poor, 
joined it. Mr. Bowers, the man who had been 
saved, became an earnest helper and the **army " 
with its banners, its music and recitations, would 
go in hay-ricks or sleighs according to the season. 
I remember going both ways, to towns near by. 
Mr. Bowers would lecture and the children fill the 
rest of the bill. My part was a very affecting 
piece called ''The Drunkards Wife." 
The first time I gave it when a little girl in short 
dresses, the boy who preceded me had a funny 
piece and the hall rang with applause; I expect- 
ed as much, for to make people happy was the 
main thing I thought to do. I had been taught by 
Mrs. Bowers herself just how to portray the agony 
of waiting and listening for the unsteady steps, and 
where to pause for effect and the applause, I not 



appreciating at all the difference in sentiment. At 
the first pause, not a stray clap; but I saw some 
crying. I finished the piece and was helped down 
hearing only sobs throughout the hall, and I felt 
ashamed and grieved because I had made them all 
cry instead of making them happy and stoutly re- 
fused to repeat it; 1 did however many times. 

1 mentioned my indebtedness to Mrs. Brooks. 
After the Judge's death she used to have the class 
come to her home after church on Sunday afternoon 
and 1 wish I could describe her so you might see 
her as I do. She was the daughter of rich Judge 
Myrick — a lady born — a beautiful picture, like 
a porcelain miniature. As I think of her with the 
high lace ruff at her neck and the laces falling over 
her hands and the yellow bow above the puff of 
her beautiful hair and the soft rustle of her black 
silk gown, I seem to feel as of old the quiet, uplift- 
ing influence. She received us in the library and 
there in the shaded light with the cases of books on 
all sides (the sight of these was then a marvel to 
me) and in her beautiful, loving, quiet tones she 



would tell us of the Omnipresent-God and the God- 
love surrounding us all. Here first 1 began to real- 
ize the very presence of God and felt in her closing 
benediction as if, really, she placed us in Cod's 
arms, making us feel safe throughout the week. 
Nor can I ever forget the quiet talks with the Alcott 
girls as we walked home. 

Mrs. Brooks was a leader and a great worker 
in the Abolition movement at this time, sacrificing 
her life in her love for her fellowmen. Upon this 
question her husband and she differed; but they 
agreed to differ. While she neglected not a home 
duty or failed in loving care of her invalid daughter 
afterwards Mrs. Rockwood Hoar, and of her son, 
George, who held the position of Judge of Probate 
for twenty five years in Middlesex County, she was 
ever ready as hostess to greet her friends. She 
was peculiarly conscientious and, report said, car- 
ried things too far. For instance, her conscience 
would not allow her to use cotton — a slave-labor 
product — and her husbsnd disliked linen; so, one 
pillow case was of cotton and one was of linen; one 



breadth of each sheet of cotton and one of linen. 
Neither would she use the Judge's money, except 
what he gave her outright, for her philanthropic 
work. She was a skillful cake maker and had one 
half of her pantry devoted to her own materials and 
made cake with her own hands, which she sold for 
parties and home use. For my own wedding her 
dear hands made the brides-cake. She seemed so 
grateful for every cent thus earned was precious to 
her as so much towards lifting the heavy burdens 
from our colored brothers — God,s dear, black 
children. 

Hawthorne says of Concord at this time about 
1840, while he was living in the "Old Manse," 
It would be impossible to go but a little way beyond 
our threshold before meeting with strange moral 
shapes of men, that might not have been encounter- 
ed elsewhere within a circuit of a thousand miles. 
These hobgoblins of the flesh were attracted thither 
by the wide spread influence of a great man living 
the other side of the village. Young missionaries, 
gray-headed theorists, people that had lighted oh a 



new idea or thought, they had all come to Hmerson 
as the finder of a gem to a lapidary to ascertain its 
value. Uncertain, troubled, earnest wanderers be- 
held his intellectual light as a beacon upon a hilltop. 
So never was a poor little country village in- 
fected with such a variety of queer, strangely dress- 
ed, oddly behaved mortals, most of whom took up- 
on themselves to be important agents of the world's 
destiny." This is Hawthorne's idea. Coming to 
Concord to live ojteyear, he considered himself quite 
a little superior to Emerson, and seemed a little to 
resent the unaccountable influence of the Christ 
spirit living in and through the man. They were 
oddly dressed people, caring no more for fashion in 
clothes than for unnecesary food, it is true; but to 
see these people and to meet them as persons you 
know and have reason to love — to see them as 
they walked arm in arm with bowed heads and low 
earnest tones, one could not but respect them; and 
one could hardly speak of them as infesting any 
village. Hawthorn, wise as he may have been 
later, had not grasped the idea then, that we as 



individuals are important agents of this world's des- 
tiny. Would that we all bore it ever in mind. 

Speaking of himself, Hawthorne said,- ** There 
may have been in my life a time when 1 too might 
have asked of this prophet the master word that 
would solve for me this riddle of the universe, but 
now being happy, 1 felt as if there was no question 
to put; 1 admired him as a poet, but sought nothing 
from him as a philosopher." Yes, Hawthorne had 
just married the brilliant artist, beautiful, wealthy 
Sophia Peabody, and had come to the Old Manse; 
so with love, beauty, and no stint, his material de- 
sires satisfied, what need had he for spiritual phil- 
osophy that he knew nothing of; at least not then. 

But I must hurry on, though I am always loath 
to leave ''those horrid people," as 1 used to hear 
them called by those who thought them wicked, 
because they did not go to the same church and sit 
on the same kind of a board. iNever in all my life, 
however, did I hear from one of these "comeouters" 
whom 1 knew in Concord of a single dishonest or 
immoral or unkind act. Love was their life and to 



manifest it their aim. 

Now about Thoreau — "my David Henry," 
as his mother used to call him. 1 never imagined 
anything great could be said of him. Mr. Thoreau 
and his wife were devoted Christians, and intellec- 
tual; but when 1 first knew about them they were 
poor. The four children all grown up, as I a school 
girl remember them, were finely educated, and in 
sympathy with reforms :- " comeouters, " strong 
abolitionists, and Christian workers. John was 
teacher in the academy, and was one of those saint- 
ly minded, clean young men that are seldom seen. 
He was a bright spot everywhere; the life of every 
gathering; and when he died suddenly by poison 
from the barber's razor, the sun seemed to have 
gone out and the family's support withdrawn. 
** David Henry" after leaving college was eccentric 
and, did not like to, and so would not, work. The 
opposite of John in every particular, he was a thin, 
insignificant, poorly dressed, careless looking man, 
with thin, straight, shaggy hair and pale blue, wat- 
ery looking eyes. After his brother's death the 



town demanded of him the payment of his own 
poll tax. He refused indignantly; ** He was a free 
man and would not pay a tax in a state that endors- 
ed slavery; and he spent one day in jail. Some 
friend paid it that year and set him free but lost 
** David Henery's " friendship by the act. The 
next spring he was not to be found; he had gone to 
the woods near Walden Pond and had established 
himself in an unused charcoal burner's hut. Here 
in the solitude he became acquainted with himself 
and began to write. Emerson was a lover of these 
woods and many hours they spent togather. Once 
after a lecture by Thoreau someone remarked how 
much like Emerson he had spoken; his mother, 
overhearing, replied,- **yes, Mr. Emerson is a per- 
fect counterpart of my * David Henery'. " She al- 
most worshiped him. 

** David Henry " did not care whether he was 
decently clothed or not. The ladies of the charita- 
ble society proposed to make him some cotton shirts 
but thought it best first to ask his mother if it would 
be agreeable to him. Dear Mrs. Thoreau at the 



next meeting said,- " I told my David Henry that 
you would like to niake him soiiie unbleached cotton 
shirts; he said, 'unbleached mother, unbleached ! 
yes, that strikes my ears pleasantly; 1 think they 
may make me some'." A practical farmer's wife 
with no sentiment said, in an aside, "Strike his 
ears pleasantly, indeed; 1 guess they will strike his 
back pleasantly when he gets them on." 

I heard no more of Thoreau until one summer 
at Bar Harbour some literary people were discussing 
*' Tow-row" and his wonderful writings. One lady 
said to me,- **Do you know him?" I, thinking 
they were speaking of some French writer (at that 
time 1 was unacquainted with French) said to her 
that I thought 1 had never heard of him. I listened 
however, that I might learn more. Presently I 
heard Concord, and Walden, and Emerson, and 
then I asked if they were not speaking of David 
Henry Thoreau late of Concord, Massachusetts. 
**Yes, said the lady smiling quite broadly at my 
pronunciation of Henry D. Tor-row, the sage of 
Concord. 1 said, *' What authority have you for 



that pronunciation? The family name is Thoreau, 
and 1 knew David Henry before he grew into a 
sage. ' ' 

You ask about Brook Farm. Personally I 
know but little about it although Concord people 
were prominant in it. It is thought by many that 
Brook Farm was a child of Emerson's thought. I 
presume this is because of the Concord people con- 
cerned in it. But the notion is erroneous. Brook 
Farm community adopted the views of Fourier but 
Emersonionism you will find not only in the Con- 
cord School of Philosophy but as the coloring of the 
entire intellectual religion of America and England. 

Geo. Ripley was organizer and guiding spirit 
of Brook Farm and Hawthorne, Alcott, Geo. W. 
Curtis, Chas. A. Dana, W. H. Channing, Thoreau 
and Margarit Fuller, beside some lesser lights known 
in and about Old Concord were members of the 
community. 

in March 1841 (they having hired a farm in 
West Koxbury, all to share alike in the labors, eat 
at the same table and share expenses) their life 



began. Hawthorne in Blithdale Romance says,- 
'' 1 was among the tirst arrivals in a blinding snow 
storm — seated by the fireside of the old farm- 
house with the snow melting out of my hair and 
beard. I felt so much more that we had transport- 
ed ourselves a world wide distance from the system 
of society that had shackled us at breakfast. But 
we congratulated ourselves that the blessed state 
of Brotherhood and Sisterhood might be dated from 
this hour. Zenobia (Margarit Fuller) had arrived 
togather with two ladies, lesser lights. They pre- 
pared the supper — and the drifting snow continued 
to fall — Stout old Silas Foster, the farmer, had 
been out, ploughing, till the snow became too deep 
and came taking off his cow hide boots to warm his 
feet seated himself beside us saying, - ' 1 guess, 
folks, you '11 be a wishing yourselves to home if the 
weather holds on'; But we would not allow our- 
selves to be depressed by a snow drift. We had 
left the rusty frame work of society. " Hawthorne 
must have lost the early happiness he described 
when he said he had no questions to ask. 



He goes on to say,- "we had broken thro' many 
hindrances that are powerful enough to keep most 
people on the weary tread mill of custom even 
while they feel the irksomeness as intolerable as 
we did. We had stepped down from the pulpit. 
We had flung aside the pen and shut up the ledger. 
It was our purpose to give up whatever we had 
heretofore attained for the sake of showing mankind 
the example of a life governed by other than the 
false and cruel principles which human society is 
based upon; and, as a basis of our institution, we 
proposed to offer up the eanest toil of our bodies as 
a prayer no less than the advancement of the race, 
and if all went to wrack let us rejoice that we once 
could think better of the world's improvability than 
it deserved. " Six years saw its demise. 

This poor world's civilization was not yet good 
enough to be entrusted with the nurture of so beau- 
tiful and sensitive a child. Let us wait patiently 
another million years. 



Today in Sleepy Hollow cemetary are resting 
almost ail whom 1 knew in those days gone bye. 
Visitors from all parts of the world like to find the 
gfaves of Emerson, Thoreau, Alcott, Hawthorne, 
Hosmer and Ripley. 

Sleepy Hollow is one of the most perfect spec- 
imens of nature's handiwork. . The perfect hollow 
surrounded on all sides by beautiful sloping banks 
surmounted with unusually perfect trees, and the 
slumbrous requiems they are always harmoniously 
singing gives the place its name. On the top of the 
.** Mount of Vision " is the grave of Emerson. A 
large, roughly shaped boulder of the ''Rose Agate" 
I think it is called, stands as his monument giving 
out deep rosy hues in the sunlight interspersed with 
diamond-like crystals most blindin;^ in tlv. ir beauty. 
These crystals were always admired by Emerson 
and Dr. Emerson, his son, wrote me that he tried 
to get one set in a monument but failed on account 
of its brittleness. Tliey then decided to bring from 
South Acworth, N. H. the Boulder weighing several 
tons. There, like- a monument to the brilliancy of 



the man and symbolic of the rare gems of thought 
which he has given to the world, it stands, forever 
giving of its bright rays to every one who looks 
upon it. 

The quiet lot of the Alcott's is almost opposite 
and I am told that loving children hands all summer 
long keep fresh flowers on the grave of Louise. 
The Thoreau lot is just deside as well as that of 
Hawthorne and Ripley and my beloved pastor, G. 
W. Hosmer and my own Father and Mother. 

So, tenderest memories cluster around Sleepy 
Hollow and Old Concord has charms untold for me. 




This is the <t/. uthot '/ Edition and limited to the 
number of two hundred {200) and this copy is 

O^o. 



C. A. Livin.?:ston. Printer 

LIVY PRbSS 

Gouverneur N Y 



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